the eights. When we took the exit ramp, we heard the second of these alerts since on the toll road. That would put the time at about eighteen passed the hour.”

“You go girl!” her inner core strength added.

“Whatever,” Sarcasm responded in a rather deflated tone.

Amy pressed on. “We curlicued around till we were north bound. We then took two lefts. The second left resulted in us being in a parking lot with speed bumps at the entry points. We slowed to a crawl till we were in a shaded area, so it must have been between two buildings.

Before we stopped, I felt along the floorboard as while we were going down the road, something dropped. Fell there when he reached for his cigarettes. I picked it up and noticed I had a small cut on my wrist. I smeared the blood on the center console, we then stopped. He killed the engine, got out, and walked around to my side of the truck. He opened the door and dragged me out. He opened the bulkhead door and through me down the stairs. Down I went. Here we are.”

“Enough of this pussy-footing around, lets get out of this place,” the aggressive voice asserted.

“But how are we going to do that,” sarcasm said chiming in. “Mr. Laughs locked the bulkhead door. We have no phone. We really don’t know for sure where we are.”

“You are right on two of those,” Cassandra said with an air of newfound confidence.

“Really,” sarcasm quipped. “Astonish me.

Cassandra whispered to Amy. “Reach into your left pocket.”

Amy, quizzical at first, slowly reached into her pants, and then had eyes as big as saucers.

It was her cell phone. It had one bar of strength. Enough for one phone call.

Amy dialed 911.

“911 what’s your emergency?”

“I need help. Someone has kidnapped me. I don’t have much time.” Amy read off the nearest cross streets.

The closest patrol car pulled up and Howard Yearton, the oldest officer in the area, had gotten out and was on foot, trying every door.